


i am burned out, i smell of smoke

by soleil_louise



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Amy Santiago is Autistic, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Autism, Autistic Meltdown, Established Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Sensory Overload, autism headcanon, brief self harm mention, not described in any way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23889655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soleil_louise/pseuds/soleil_louise
Summary: Amy Santiago is autistic. This is just a fact of her life, and she knew this. She was Cuban, she was an NYPD detective, she was a girlfriend, she was a book nerd, and she was autistic. It wasn't that she was ashamed, she was just... scared.Amy is autistic and has a meltdown at work. This is just my headcanon! Please, don't attack me for it.
Relationships: Jake Peralta & Amy Santiago, Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Comments: 15
Kudos: 105





	i am burned out, i smell of smoke

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all !! I wrote this on a whim at 2:30 am because Amy being autistic is my favourite headcanon and I love her so much. I also headcanon Charles and Holt as autistic. Sorry if this has any errors, I threw it together in an hour and a half.
> 
> Also, I'm autistic and this is entirely based off my own experiences with sensory overload and having meltdowns and panic attacks! If you don't relate, that's totally okay. I'm just basing this off my own life experiences. I love y'all !!

Amy liked routine. She always had. She was always perfectly on time for work, she always drank the same coffee, colour coded her highlighters, drove the same route home, and she scheduled her social activities on her calendar above her bed. She had interests that she loved with every fibre of her being, like binders, police work, and bureaucracy. At best, she was referred to as organized or careful. At worst, annoying, boring, and… other things. But she knew. She had known since she was 12 and the doctor said those words to her that pieced together everything she questioned about herself.

Amy Santiago was autistic. It was a fact of her life, and she knew this. Amy Santiago was Cuban, she was an NYPD detective, she was a girlfriend, she was a book nerd, and she was autistic. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of that, she was just… scared. She never knew how to be vulnerable. From early on, she had always taught herself to mask. Hide all her autistic traits, and that included her emotional outbursts. Of course, she couldn’t always control it, and she had had her fair share of meltdowns in the precinct bathroom, but for the most part, she could mask. Until she got home, where she was safe.

But not today. Today, everything was triggering her sensory issues. She could hear Gina clicking her pen over and over, Scully and Hitchcock were chewing with their mouths open, and Rosa was tapping her nails on her desk. Jake, despite being the wonderful boyfriend he is, had spilled blue soda and now she could feel the slight sticky residue on her desk against her fingertips. The precinct was far too hot, her shirt was too tight, and the lights were too bright. She could feel the panic setting in, and knew she had to get out. She was so close, just five minutes left in the day… 

Nope. Charles squeaked his chair against the floor and that was it for her. She quickly stood up, not bothering to attempt to hide the panicked expression on her face, and practically ran from her desk. She knew people were staring, she knew they thought she was a freak. She didn’t care. She needed to leave. She needed quiet.

Next thing she knew, she was sitting on the cold concrete floor of the evidence room hyperventilating. Holy shit, she felt like she was going to die. She’d had panic attacks her entire life, but her therapist was working with her on them and she thought she was getting better. 

_“God, Amy. You can’t even control this? You’re a freak.”_ Was what ran through her head. “ _What kind of adult has a meltdown over some noise?_ ”. She couldn’t fucking breathe. She was crying and tugging at her sleeves, just trying to get some release. She punched the hard floor beside her out of frustration and yelped in pain. That’s when Jake walked in. “ _He’s gonna hate you,_ ” she thought as she buried her head in her lap. “ _Nobody could love a freak like you._ ”

“Ames? Amy, babe, are you okay? What’s going on?” he asked, the panic rising in his voice as he took in her disheveled state. Her blazer was crumpled in a ball across the room, and her sleeves had obviously been pulled up with some force judging by the faint read nail marks on her arms. Her hair was a disaster, and she could feel the drying tears sticking to her face, which meant her mascara was definitely streaked across her cheeks. Jake knelt in front of her and touched her arm to get her attention, causing her to gasp and pull away from him. She pulled her legs tighter into her chest and shut her eyes tight. Everything would go away if she could just _think_ it away hard enough.

“Amy, what’s happening? Do I need to call someone?” he asked, pleading with her to answer. He was so scared. He had seen Amy panic multiple times before, it was impossible not to, with how long they had been partners and the fact that they were now a couple, often spending the night at each other's places. But he had never seen something this bad. “Amy, please tell me if you’re okay. I need to know you’re okay, baby.”

Her head rose up from her lap at the sudden softness in his voice. This man, who loved her so much, was genuinely concerned about her. All her past partners had either accused her of attention seeking or even just left when they had witnessed meltdowns like this. But Jake, he cared. He wanted to help her. He loved her.

“It’s too much,” she forced out. In many situations, she would have gone nonverbal during a panic attack this bad, but Jake was pulling her out of it, and he was willing to be as patient as she needed. “Everything. It’s too loud, too hot. Too much.”

Jake paused, clearly thinking about what to say next. He saw the fear in his girlfriend's eyes, and felt horrible about the fact that he hadn’t been there to help prevent this. She had been off all day, not meeting his eyes as much as usual when she talked (usually she made a lot more eye contact than everyone else, today it was practically none at all), and often staring blankly at her work as if she couldn’t comprehend what any of it said. 

“Babe, is there anything I can do?” He asked, not knowing what to say. He was never the best at emotional moments, but he had promised himself to try, for Amy.

She shook her head. “No. But I need you to know something. Something I haven’t told anyone before.”. Her hand shook as she said these words, looking down at the floor as she felt her boyfriend’s eyes on her. “I’m autistic.”. It didn’t feel as earth-shattering to say those words as she expected. She had always imagined that admitting it out loud, especially to somebody who she loved so dearly, would cause the ground to fall out from below her.

Jake nodded, processing what she said. “Okay. Thanks for sharing that with me. I love you, and you’re a badass.”. Amy looked up at that. He hadn’t run screaming from the room, he hadn’t called her any horrible names, he had just… accepted her. He looked at her with absolutely no judgement in his eyes.

“Wait, you don’t hate me? You aren’t freaked out or anything?” she asked. She was so scared he would laugh in her face and tell her that he wasn’t going to love someone like her. That she was a freak, and she didn’t deserve someone like him. That she didn’t deserve to be happy. 

But instead, he looked at her with the same softness he did when she talked about the things she loved so much it felt like her heart was going to explode, or when she got up in the morning, fresh faced and effortlessly beautiful. He had the same love and admiration for her that he always had.

“Why would I hate you, Ames? You’re incredible. No matter what. We’re in this together, and I’m glad you feel comfortable to share this part of yourself with me. I’ve got you, through everything.”. She smiled at him, tears welling up in her eyes again.

“I love you.” She said, collapsing into his arms. Yes, they were on the dusty evidence room floor, but she just needed to be held by her boyfriend right now. She needed to feel safe.

“I love you too,” he said, holding her tightly. “So earlier, was that…”

“A meltdown. Sensory overload. I get them from time to time. They were a lot worse when I was a kid, I would hit myself and scream until my brothers would leave me alone in my room for hours. It was horrible. I’ve learned how to fight them off better now. But I can’t always do it, like today.”. She said, explaining. Nobody had understood when she was little, they all thought she was just throwing tantrums. That she had an attitude, that she was a brat. But she always knew it wasn’t her fault. Getting that diagnosis that day had made her parents and brothers feel terrible for every bit of doubt they had when she told them she wasn’t trying to be _bad_.

“That makes sense. I’m gonna research the hell out of this later, I hope you know that,” Jake said to her. She chuckled softly, kissing his cheek.

“You always know just what to say. You’re incredible,” she said, holding him as tightly to her body as she could. This had been one of her worst days in a while, but right now, that didn’t matter. She was safe, in Jake’s arms, and he loved her. He wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

For the first time in years, she felt like she was loved unconditionally. And it was true, she was. She had everything she needed, in the evidence locker, on this random Tuesday evening.


End file.
